


It's Not Safe Anywhere

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt and comfort, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the scene between Bran and Meera in 6x02 should have gone</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Safe Anywhere

Bran let Hodor carry him out of the cave, even though he knew was getting too heavy to carry around now. It was a struggle for the half giant now, Bran was a man grown. His voice has dropped long ago and he supposed if he could stand beside his father, he'd mirror him in height. It was an odd thought. Bran had not seen his father since before he'd been broken, and Eddard Stark had been a towering figure then. Robb as well, but Robb was dead too. Bran couldn't compare height to them now even if he could stand to do so. 

Meera was sitting in the snow, staring away from the cave. She'd been very solemn ever since they arrived there, making it obvious that she not only didn't want to be there but that she didn't trust the Three Eyed Raven. Meera had always been the sunshine in the pair of Reed siblings- but now the light had gone out in her.

“Its not safe out here.” Bran said as Hodor set him down in the snow.

“Its not safe anywhere.” Meera replied, voice as cold as the chilled air beyond The Wall. Bran pursed his lips and looked down at the snow. Meera still hadn't turned around, and Bran tried to pretend it didn't hurt his feelings. Meera had always been so nice, so caring. She managed to be Arya, Sansa and his mother all at once- but now it was as though she wanted nothing more than for Bran to stay away from her.

“I saw Winterfell.” Bran told her. He always told her about his training. He'd long accepted that Meera couldn't seem to care less, he still told her. Maybe one day she would return the effort, and if not… Bran would keep trying. “I saw my father as a boy, and my uncle Benjen and Aunt Lyanna… my father would never talk about her but she was beautiful. She was riding a horse into the grounds and-”

Meera suddenly spung around, giving Bran a dark look. She said nothing but she didn't turn away either. It may have been the first time the pair had made eye contact for longer than a second since coming to stay in the cave but Bran didn't feel relief or happiness. The anger and pain in Meera’s eyes filled him with a sense of dread.

“Whats wrong?” He asked her. It was question he'd asked her a million times since arriving here. A question she'd never answered truthfully. At first it was the lies- “Nothing.” or “I'm fine.”- but soon she ignored the question completely. Bran didn't know if that was better or worse than her lying to him.

This time though, Meera answered. “Oh I don't know, Bran. Maybe I held my brother in my arms while he bled out?”

Bran blinked, jerking his head back slightly. He'd known of course, that this had been hurting Meera all this time- it had been an ache in his chest as well. Bran had lost people he'd loved before but Jojen Reed had died  _ for _ him. Jojen Reed had walked through Northern forests to find Bran, all while knowing he would die if he did. He did it without saying a word in protest.

“Or maybe its because I slit open my  _ baby brother’s _ throat and left him in the snow.” Meera’s voice cracked and she bit down on her lip.

“It's not your fault, Meera.” Bran said gently. He wanted to go to her, hug her, make her feel better but that would require pulling himself along the snow. Bran wasn't sure if he physically could do it but he was thinking about trying when Meera scoffed.

“What would know about it? You didn't even see… you didn't see him being stabbed. You didn't see the blood or his pale face as he was dying. You didn't see his eyes, Bran- he wasn't afraid.” Meera coughed, maybe to cover a sob- Bran wasn't sure. “I guess I was afraid enough for both of us.”

“He wasn't afraid because he knew it was going to happen.” Bran spoke with confidence. “He did what he had to do.”

Meera let out a true sob this time and Bran’s heart broke a little bit more. “He died for  _ you,  _ for this… what am I supposed to make of that? What I am supposed to do? I can't go home, not without Jojen. I can't face my father with my brother’s blood on my hands.”

“It wasn't like that Meera.” Bran felt the tears coming to his own eyes but he fought them off. He was a man grown, and grown men don't cry. He hadn't cried when Summer’s mind brought news of Robb and his mother, and he wouldn't cry now. “It was just-”

“Don't.” Meera held her hand up. “I don't want to hear any of your explanations. If you cared, you would've tried long before now. Damnit Bran, he died for you! He dragged himself, sick and dying, across the North and beyond The Wall for you- and you've said nothing. Maybe if you were just thankful, maybe if you cared-”

“I do care!” Bran gasped, eyes widening. He couldn't believe his own ears. He'd never thought he'd given off the impression that he didn't care. “Meera, I never wanted Jojen to die for me. If I could go back, and Jojen wanted to find the Three Eyed Raven still I'd tell him no. That it isn't worth it.”

Meera shook her head. “You're important Bran and you need to be trained. Jojen knew that and he believed his life purpose was to get the training you needed. It was worth it to him I guess, I just wish…. I just wish he'd told me. That I'd known before that it would've been his last day. His last night….”

Bran’s eyes held tears now, he couldn't push him away. Hard as he tried, Bran couldn't remember the night before Jojen died. He couldn't remember if Jojen had said something, done something- anything- to hint at what was to come.

All he could remember was when they found the Tree at long last. The way he'd looked to Jojen for confirmation of what he'd already known. The way Jojen had nodded, how he'd smiled… and how the smile had disappeared from his face when he looked away from Bran. The way he seemed to age ten years in the small moment.  _ The little grandfather. _

“I wish I could hate you.” Meera spat out bitterly. “I want to curse you to the seven hells and I want to wish the worst to you. But I can't. I want to blame you for this but its Jojen. He's the only one to blame, stupid selfless asshole.” Meera was crying, but it was a silent crying. Just tears slipping down her winter reddened cheeks. “I should hate him.”

“No.” Bran shook his head, beginning to drag himself across the ground. “No, you can't do that. The hate will consume you.”

Meera watched Bran crawl across the snowy ground with a conflicted expression, but she made no move towards him.

“When my mother left me after I fell, I hated her.” Bran admitted. His hands had started to burn from the cold of dragging himself but he didn't stop. “I hated her for leaving me. But then I had a dream, I was climbing a tree and she appeared. She told me not to climb and then she… pushed me out of the tree. I woke up and I knew something bad was going to happen to her. And I couldn't hate her anymore, because I loved her.”

Meera was within reach and Bran took her hand. She held pulled him closer but they remained touching by just hands. “She's dead. Her, and Robb, and Father. And Jojen. We can't hate them because we loved them too much. They made decisions that lead to them dying, bad decisions they may have thought we're good or bad decisions they knew were bad- but it wasn't to hurt us.

“Jojen didn't do this to hurt you. He did it to help the Realm. If I'm as important as you all think, then maybe Jojen did the right thing.” Bran whipped at tears that dripped down his own face before they could freeze. “I know he thought he did.”

“I should have died with him. Or instead of him.” Meera almost whispered. “He'd he more help to you now than I am.”

“I wish he hadn't died. I'd do anything to go back and save him, but I wouldn't let you die in his place.” Bran used both hands to hold Meera’s. “I need you, Meera Reed. I need both of you, I'm not sure how to move on without Jojen but you're the one who'll help me win the war. Not him.”

“I can't fight a war when I'm like this.” Meera shook her head. “I can't even touch a weapon without seeing his face- seeing him dying.”

Bran couldn't think of anything to say to that so he just pushed himself as high up as he could and wrapped his arms around her. Meera hugged him back tightly and he felt her shake with silent cries.

“Does it get easier, Bran? Does it ever hurt less?”

Bran thought back to Winterfell. Seeing his father as a child, seeing the sister that Eddard would never talk about. He saw his mother’s face when she told him not to climb- the feigned anger that hid fear. He saw his Father sharping Ice in the Godswood, Robb laughing while sparring with Jon. He saw himself having snowball fights with Sansa and Arya. He thought of Maester Luwin teaching him all the history he knows, and Ser Rodrick helping him with sword play. He saw Rickon’s face when he said goodbye. He remembered Jojen Reed’s last smile before descending to his death.

“I don't know.” Bran replied weakly, his own body shaking with the sobs he was trying to keep quiet. “I hope so.”


End file.
